


One of a Kind

by ncfan



Series: The House of Finwë in the Years of the Trees [9]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Babies, But I see that ship with even the slightest hints, F/F, Gen, Guilt, I'll admit that, Introspection, Newborn Children, So yeah, Social Issues, Step-parents, Step-siblings, The Indis/Miriel's pretty vague, You pretty much already have to ship it to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1405264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncfan/pseuds/ncfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Indis at her daughter's birth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of a Kind

It was not as bad as she had been told it would be. Certainly, childbirth had not been what anyone could term pleasant, but for Indis, who had spent the last year feeling worryingly clumsy and off-balance, it was a relief.

And it was a relief to have this ultimate sign that her marriage to Finwë was a just one, a union that had the blessings of the One. Indis had heard many whisper (doubtless believing that she could not hear) that the reluctant assent of the Valar meant nothing so long as their King's marriage to his second wife did not produce children. Surely the One would not allow Finwë to have children by this second wife, this false wife, after having wed Míriel Serindë. Surely this foreign false wife (and Indis felt a bitter taste in her mouth to hear herself, who had once dwelled in Tirion along with all of her people, referred to as 'foreign') would never be given the One's blessing.

This child, her newborn daughter, lying awake in her arms, disproved all the naysayers.

Her daughter was quiet and alert, staring at each new face that came to pay their respects with solemn blue-gray eyes. Her skin was the sort of pale olive shade common among the Noldor, the fine fuzz on her head dark black. She resembled her sire, in short, at least as an infant, and Indis was glad—after all the suspicion and quiet rejection she had faced from the Noldor over her 'foreign' looks and ways, at least her daughter would not endure the same.

And there was something else Indis was glad of. She was glad that her firstborn child was a girl, and not a boy. At least this child would not face the turmoil of being considered a rival claimant to the throne. That thought swam in Indis's mind as she caught sight of the latest Quendë to appear at the door.

"You're welcome to come inside if you wish, Fëanáro," Indis called to him, forcing a smile on her face and hoping that Fëanáro wouldn't take notice of the tremulous timbre of her voice (And knowing that he would). She had been wondering when he would come, if he would come.

Indeed, Fëanáro pressed his lips into a thin line as he heard her. He strode inside the bedchamber with purpose instead of slipping inside like a cat, as he might have if this was Finwë's chamber and Indis was there with him. But before making his way to the bed where Indis sat, her daughter in her arms, Fëanáro stopped by one of the tall glass windows.

"It's too hot in here," he muttered, opening the latch on the window in front of him, so that a chill breeze was able to gust into the room.

Indis would have said that she was deliberately keeping the windows shut, for fear that the cool air of early spring would upset the baby, but clamped her mouth shut over the words.

Fëanáro stood at the now-open window for a few moments, letting the cool air wash over his skin, before walking over towards the bed, where his step-mother sat looking at him. He stopped about two feet short of the bed itself—just far enough that Indis could not reach out to touch him, if she had wished to do so. Upon realizing that, Indis felt a noticeable twinge of pain in her gut. "Do you want to see her, Fëanáro?" Indis asked, in what she told herself was an encouraging tone of voice. She found her eyes drawn to his shuffling feet. "This is your sister."

" _Half_ -sister," Fëanáro immediately corrected her.

It took a moment for it to occur to Indis to respond to this. For such a young child, Fëanáro had so commanding a manner of speaking that it wasn't always easy to discern anything wrong in the things he said. "Your _sister_ , Fëanáro," Indis said firmly. "Don't you want to see her?"

Indis turned the baby over so that she was propped up against her mother's chest and right arm, facing Fëanáro. At the sight of her, his eyes widened. "But I thought babies were born with their eyes shut," he blurted out, suddenly seeming much more like a child of his young years than he normally did.

Indis smiled gently. "The babes of beasts are sometimes born with their eyes shut, but the Quendi never are. Won't you come see her, Fëanáro?"

This time, Fëanáro did draw close to the bed, creeping up like a cat, very deliberate in his movements. As he did so, the baby noticed him, staring at him out of her wide eyes. Fëanáro stared back, reaching out to hold one of her tiny hands and examining her even-tinier fingers as though it was the first time he had ever seen a baby, ever seen a child younger than himself.

"…What did Father name her?" Fëanáro asked quietly, an absent note in his voice that Indis had never heard there before—he was normally so intent, so alert, that no one could ever catch him unawares. He gazed at his sister with his brow knitted, an indecipherable expression in his bright gray eyes.

"Findis," Indis replied, and nearly choked. In that moment, she could hear a quick, clever voice saying _'How unimaginative… it's rather conceited to name the girl after himself, don't you think?'_ That was what Míriel had said to her, very nearly, what she had said when she told Indis of Finwë's original name for his son.

Indis barely heard Fëanáro ask, "And what have you named her?"

Similarly, she was barely able to reply, "I have not thought of a name yet," and could find nothing to say in response to the dubious look Fëanáro gave her as he doubtless thought of the fact that _his_ mother had given him a name even before Finwë did.

There was someone else who needed to be in this room. And it was not Finwë.

Indis imagined Míriel standing behind her son. She could see it perfectly, down to Míriel stroking Fëanáro's hair with a deft hand while she told him to say hello to his new sister. So badly did she wish to see it, so badly did she wish to see the twin of Fëanáro's shadow that followed him wherever he went grow flesh and find her voice again. She thought of all the things that she would have given up to have that.

_I would have to give my child up._

She would have had to give up Findis, to see Míriel again. That was it, that surely must be it, for if Míriel had not perished from the strain of bearing her son, Indis would never have wed her husband. _Who am I to reject the existence of my daughter, even for a moment? Who am I to reject a unique life?_

Ignoring Fëanáro's protests, Indis drew Findis closer up against her, resting her cheek against her daughter's fine, dark hair. She looked over Findis's head at Fëanáro, who was now scowling at her, and counted the shadows behind him. Was it one, or two?

(She had something that Míriel would never have. Indis did not know whether to be glad of that for her own sake, or to be weary again in her loneliness, and feel guilt for being glad.)

**Author's Note:**

> Fëanáro—Fëanor
> 
> Quendë—Elf (plural: Quendi) (Quenya)


End file.
